


Earth and Moon

by RaakyWrites



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Romance, Werewolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26495722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaakyWrites/pseuds/RaakyWrites
Summary: Earth and Moon is a werewolf romance set in northern California. Alex and Samantha, two high school graduates, struggle with their new feelings for each other. Until the night of summer's first full moon...





	Earth and Moon

Summer was here, and the air sounded of freedom as we made the long walk to Samantha’s house. Kids were pouring out of our high school’s open doors, whooping as they made good on their best-laid plans for summer fun. 

Samantha tossed her raven hair, and looked at me and smiled. “I’ve always loved the last day of school.” 

“It’s strange, though,” she continued. 

“What’s strange?” 

“That we’ll never have a day like this again.” 

I turned around, taking in the view of Granite Mountain High. “I can’t believe we’re already seniors.” 

“Alex!” Samantha laughed and jabbed me in the side. “We’re not even seniors anymore. We’ve graduated! We’re never coming back.” 

I joined in laughing with her. “We’re already done being seniors! That’s what I meant to say.” 

The torrent of kids flowing out the doors finally slowed, though plenty still frolicked around the parking lot. One out of four, roughly, would be gone for good – mostly the taller ones. Next year, the shorter ones would take their place. That was the way of things. I counted. 

Kirin’s Run wasn’t a large town. It was beautiful here. Being high in the Sierras, it wasn’t really close to anything besides the mountains. I wondered how many kids would come back once they left for college, if they left for college. I could already think of a few who wouldn’t. 

“I’m going to miss this place,” I said. 

“We can still come back. I drive by here every day.” 

“No, I mean, being on the campus,” I said. “Doing stuff, as a student. That’s what I’m going to miss.” 

“What, you want to go back inside?” Samantha teased. 

“Oh God, no.” 

“Then come on!” 

We kept walking, and made a right at the second stop sign. The shouting, muffled now by trees, became quieter and more distant. Pine needles on the sidewalk crunched underneath our feet. The forest was always trying to come into town. 

“So, uh.” I started. 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you looking forward to being a doctor?” 

“In ten years, maybe,” she smiled. 

“I mean pre-med. College. You’re looking forward to that?” I corrected myself. 

“Yeah! I’m looking forward to it.” 

“Cool.” I felt silly for even asking. What else would she possibly have said? “It’s cool we’ve been able to hang out so much this year.” 

“I’ve been enjoying it.” 

Her fingers brushed against mine, and the sidewalk suddenly felt smaller. I wondered if anyone was watching. I closed my eyes and tried to enjoy the feeling of our fingers bumping into each other as we swung our hands and walked. I wanted to hold Samantha’s hand. 

Then she closed her fingers around my palm, and I felt a new flush of warmth that had nothing to do with the sun. 

\--- 

Samantha’s house was a squat, one-story structure, built right up close to the edge of a steep hill. The land fell away somewhere in the middle of her backyard, and it would’ve been a wonderful view if the slope wasn’t so tangled with trees. But like the rest of her house, the nature had its own charm. 

The front lawn was a mix of grass and scrub, with a cluster of ornaments near her front step. A decorative wooden sign on the wall next to her door proudly proclaimed, ‘The Harts’. In the driveway were two vehicles: a hatchback, and a pickup with a weatherproof shell covering its bed. The truck’s tailgate and the garage were both open, and Samantha’s dad was actively stuffing things in, forcibly making room alongside the other gear that was already in his truck’s bed. Samantha sucked in her breath. I guess she hadn't expected her dad to be home this early. 

Samantha’s dad gave one final shove, then straightened up and turned around. He shielded his eyes from the sun as we approached. “Hey, Sam! Welcome home. Is that your friend Alex with you?” 

I wasn’t sure if Samantha had asked her parents’ permission to have me over. In fact, I kind of assumed she hadn’t. But there was no point trying to be sneaky. 

“Hey, Mr. Hart.” My feet crunched on the gravel as we started up the driveway, and I wondered if he’d seen us holding hands. 

Mr. Hart extended his arm for a firm, callused shake. “Rob. But you already know that. Pleasure to see you again, Alex”. 

I couldn’t help but look into the back of his truck. “That’s pretty full”, I observed. 

“We’re camping at the reservoir this weekend, to celebrate Sam’s graduation. I took the day off to get an early start packing. Didn't she tell you that?” 

“She mentioned camping earlier today,” I said. “Can I help?” I wasn’t sure how Rob wanted to organize his truck, but I felt awkward having interrupted his work. 

“If you want, sure. Hey, Sam!” Rob called. Samantha was hanging back near the foot of the driveway, hands stuffed in her back pockets. “Why don’t you come on up here and tell me how your day went?” 

Rob turned back to me as Samantha approached. “We’ll be fishing tomorrow, so if you could, grab my tackle box. I’ll find a spot for it in the back.” 

I stepped into the shaded garage as Rob and Samantha got into conversation. It was still sweltering hot, but at least it wasn't the heavy sunlight cooking me anymore. 

Both sides of Rob’s garage were stacked to the ceiling with shelves. The floor was immaculately clean; Rob had swept all the clutter from the ground and found space for it in midair, with his small army of stackable organizers. I paced slowly, looking for one specific box amidst a sea of neatly arranged, other boxes. There was a tool kit, six plastic drawers of screws, an open cardboard container filled with rags and WD-40. Rob wanted his tackle, and I didn’t fish. This was going to be somewhat difficult. 

I paced slowly forwards, until I reached a large metal table, flush against the garage’s rear wall. A green crate rested against one corner. It didn’t quite look like fishing gear, but it was the closest I’d seen so far, and seemed outdoorsy enough. I risked a peek inside. There sat dozens of rows of small, cardboard pallets, neat as everything else. Each was stamped with a fearsome eagle, and labeled: 9mm. This wasn’t tackle. It was ammo. Frustrated, and somewhat ashamed of poking my nose into things, I closed the lid and moved on. 

I finished my circuit around the far side of the garage, passing drawers and organizers but still nothing that looked like fishing equipment. Samantha and her dad were still chatting in the sun. They paused their conversation as I approached. 

“Couldn’t find it”, I said sheepishly. 

“Oh, that’s fine,” Rob said. “Let me show you.” 

Samantha and I followed him to a tall locker, close to the garage entrance. 

“It’s in here... second shelf from the bottom... far right.” Rob opened the locker and pointed, revealing a bright blue container with a white lid. “I have a certain way of organizing things. But don’t worry about that. We've never fished together before, so you wouldn’t have known what to look for.” 

He pulled out the container and straightened up. “How about this. I’ll finish packing the truck. You two go inside where it’s cooler, and do whatever you were planning to do before I interrupted you. Sound good?” 

I could practically feel Samantha squirm where she stood. “Sounds good”, I agreed. 

“Oh, and Sam! Your mom and I are buying you dinner tonight, so be ready to go by six-thirty.” 

“Right.” Samantha bit out the word like she was on trial. 

The three of us squeezed our way past each other, and we made it into the house. 

Samantha sighed in relief. “Finally!” 

I agreed. “This air conditioning is nice”. 

I followed her into the kitchen and stood at the counter, while she leaned into fridge. I had a clear view of Samantha’s wild backyard through the window to my right. In front of me, Samantha’s dark hair was falling over her shoulders, stark against her white top. 

“Ginger ale?” 

“Yes, please.” 

She opened two bottles with a hiss and filled two glasses, with ice. “To the last day of school.” 

We clinked our glasses together, and drank. 

“Want to sit down?” she asked. 

“Sure.” I nodded, still recovering from the heat. We walked the short distance to her living room and dropped ourselves onto the sofa. Samantha scooted closer to me, inching her way out of a pool of hot sun that flowed in through the uncovered windows, and let me slide my arm behind the small of her back. 

“So, what about you?” 

“Hmm?” I responded. 

“Are you looking forward to your degree in aerospace engineering?” She leaned her head against my left shoulder, gazing up at me as she asked. Her eyes were hazel, with tiny stars of emerald green clustered near the center. 

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely.” 

“I’m not crushing you, am I?” 

“No, you’re fine.” I tried to think about my degree, but all I could focus on was my hand, resting on Samantha’s hip. It felt so right. 

“I guess...” I started, turning my head upwards to think. “There's a lot of things you can do with that degree. Exploration. Discovery. Defense. A lot of those things are appealing to me. I’ve always liked the idea of discovering new territory. And right now, all the unexplored territory is in space. So aerospace makes sense.” 

“Would you go to space, if you could?” 

“Yeah, absolutely.” 

“Would you go to the moon?” 

I looked at her again. Samantha was smiling, and from the glimmer in her eyes, she was about to burst into something else. A laugh? Her hip was warm underneath my palm. A wave of hair had fallen across her face. I felt the deep urge to brush it aside, but something held me back. “Of course.” 

Suddenly, the door banged open. Rob was back, striding past our nest in the living room, making a beeline for the fridge. Samantha and I jerked away from each other, putting a respectable distance between our noses. 

There was another hiss, and then the tinkle of metal dancing on tile. “Don’t mind me,” Mr. Hart called out. “Just grabbing a soda.” 

He walked back towards the garage, but stopped short as he neared our sofa. “Your mom called. She said she’ll be home at five, so we’ll start getting ready to go around then.” 

“Okay”, Samantha replied, her eyes wide and innocent, her hands folded neatly in her lap. 

“One more thing. I moved your things from your room to the truck, and you only packed one bag. Did you mean to do that? Last time we went camping, you packed two.” 

“I packed one.” 

“Right. I just wanted to make sure.” 

The door clicked shut, and Samantha turned back to me with another breath of relief. “Want to head to my room now?” 

“Yes, please.” 

\--- 

Samantha’s room was spacious, especially given the house it was inside of. A bookshelf covered half of the far wall, filled with colorful titles on topics of nature and fantasy. Next to the shelf hung a series of framed photos, some of which she’d taken herself: her parents with her two older siblings on a rafting trip; beams of smoky sunlight filtered through a canopy of trees; a nighttime photo of the nearby ridge, the white rocks illuminated in moonlight with the milky way hanging low in the sky. Her desk stood across from her bed, with a small number of hand-drawn sketches stacked neatly on one side, and a trophy from our school’s cross-country running team standing on the other. Four of Samantha’s favorite childhood stuffed toys had joined us on top of her bed – a bear, a mountain lion, a horse, and a wolf. 

Samantha’s parents had adopted an open-door policy for these kinds of visits, all to make sure that a certain incident committed by her older sister never happened again. Bedroom doors remained open whenever two teenagers were inside. Stubborn Samantha compromised by closing her bedroom door halfway. It wasn't perfect, but it gave us extra privacy. And with a hall separating us from the living room, we didn’t have to worry about her dad’s frequent trips in and out of the garage. 

Samantha was resting her head underneath my chin, and my right hand had found its way back to her hip. She was pressing her toy wolf against my chest, having playfully attacked me with it a moment before. I grabbed it, and enjoyed the feel of our fingers mingling together amidst its soft plush before pushing it into her face. 

“Grrr!” I growled. 

Samantha laughed. “He can keep you company on your trip to the moon,” she joked. 

Unexpectedly, I felt a sharp burst of sadness. I’d be earning my degree a hundred miles away from her. We’d chosen different colleges, and in three short months, we’d have to go our separate ways. We hadn’t even started hanging out together until this year. School only let out three hours ago, and already this summer seemed too short. 

Samantha started fidgeting with the wolf, and I realized I’d been quiet for too long. “Want to watch a show?” I suggested. 

“Sure!” she agreed, enthusiastically. “Anything in particular?” 

“Not really. Let’s look together.” 

“All right.” She sat up, and stretched. “Uuugh. Give me a minute.” 

She held my hand against her thigh for another moment before finally leaving the bed to retrieve her laptop. As she stood, I couldn’t help but notice her tan skin, revealed by the gap between her jeans and her scrunched, white top. The small of her back curved gently when she moved. 

I was a fan of science fiction, and Samantha loved comedy. After a minor tug-of-war, we compromised with Lilo and Stitch, and for the next hour and a half we took turns laughing as the shape-shifting alien puppy rampaged through Hawaii. As the credits rolled, I heard a door close elsewhere in the house; scraps of conversation floated down the hall. Samantha closed her laptop quickly, and the two of us sat up, as if we hadn’t been cuddling on her bed for the last ninety minutes. 

There were footsteps, and then Samantha's mom poked her head into the room, curly brown hair bouncing around her face. “Samantha! Hey. It’s after five. Time to get ready for dinner. Hi, Alex. Rob told me you were here.” 

Samantha had her innocent look again. “Okay.” 

“No rush, but soon. Your father wants to leave at six.” 

Samantha groaned. Her innocence became exasperation. “He told me six-thirty.” 

“You know how he is. He’s a planner. He loves to be early to everything.” A ray of afternoon sun made her brown eyes glint behind her bifocals. With a firm hand, she pushed the bedroom door as wide as it would go. “Oh, and Samantha... leave your door all the way open next time.” 

“Mom, I’m eighteen!” Samantha buried her reddened face in the plush of her stuffed wolf. 

“My house, my rules.” Her mom smiled at me sincerely. “I’m not mad at you. You’ve been a perfect gentleman. And you’re turning...?” 

“Nineteen next week,” I answered. 

“Nineteen is a good age. Take my advice: you should stay that young forever.” She looked at Samantha again. “Six!” 

Once her mom was out of earshot, Samantha pulled her face out of her wolf. “Why does she have to embarrass me!” 

“Moms just do.” It was all I could think to say. “She’s nice though. You have good parents.” 

Samantha heaved a long, gusty breath. “Whatever”. Then she was smiling again. “Hey, do you want to join us for dinner? I’m sure my parents would be cool with it. They like you a lot.” 

I felt cornered. “Oh, no thanks.” Then backtracked. “I mean, thanks very much for the offer. But my parents are expecting me back home soon, and I don’t want to crash your graduation. My mom’s making a nice meal for me, too. But let’s hang out again sometime soon?” 

“Sure.” There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, but her smile remained. 

We held our gaze for another moment, sitting together on the edge of her bed. Then Samantha stood and walked to her dresser. I got up too, several steps behind her. “Are you getting changed now? I can head home if you want me to.” 

“Not yet.” Samantha opened her drawer, shuffling stockings, panties, and the like, before raising out a brown, wooden box. “This is for you. It’s your birthday present.” 

She opened the lid. I saw a silver chain glittering inside. “I thought about giving it to you after I got back from camping, but I had a lot of fun today. Now seemed like a better time.” 

“Samantha...” I started. 

She offered the box to me. “Hold this.” 

I did. The dark, stained wood was smooth beneath my fingers. Samantha lifted the chain out of the box and stepped behind me. I caught our reflection in the mirror next to her dresser as she looped the chain around my neck. The silver rings had a simple pattern: two small rings, then a longer one. Two small, one long. It was a repetitive pattern, but aesthetic. She bowed her head, concentrating as she fit the small clasp into its matching rung. In the reflection, her head nestled neatly into the crook between my shoulder and my neck. 

With a small click, the latch was secure. 

She rested her hands on my shoulders. “How do you like it?” she asked. 

The silver rungs shone softly, catching the amber afternoon sunlight. “I... I love it.” 

I wasn’t one for jewelry, and this was a new look. I was feeling a lot of things at once; it was actually hard to sort through them all. But it was undeniably beautiful. 

“Where did you get it?” I asked. Then I reprimanded myself, immediately, for asking the dumbest out of all dumb questions. 

“It’s actually, um...” she gave a small laugh, and then regained her posture. “I actually found it.” 

I was startled, but not upset. “You found it?” 

I turned away from the mirror to look at her directly. The window next to her bed made a frame around her, and stray rays of sun lit up strands of her hair around her shoulders. The hill’s downward slope was gentler on this side of her house, and in the distance, above the tangled trees, I could see jagged mountain peaks — clear of snow in the summer, but still shining white in the sun. 

“I was exploring a few years ago, with friends,” Samantha said. “Up above the reservoir, where the ground starts to get rocky. We brought our backpacking gear, and we wanted to camp for the night where nobody would find us. 

“We took a break next to a creek. Liz and Michelle sat down to rest, but I kept walking. Up the creek, against the flow. Even further up the mountain. Then I looked into the water, and I just... saw it, in between the rocks.” 

She was holding the chain in her fingers. “I picked it up. It was clean, just like it is now. I brought it back to the girls, but it wasn’t theirs. We spent the next hour looking for the owner, but we couldn’t find anyone. Not even a campsite. And it’s not like there's a ranger station to leave it at. That's a pretty remote spot. So, I kept it.” 

Our eyes met. “And now I’m giving it to you,” she said. 

She tugged playfully on the chain, pulling my face closer to hers. My hand was resting on her hip again, and now my other hand reached for the small of her back. I nuzzled my forehead against hers, and she giggled. 

Another footstep in the hall jolted us apart. The corridor was empty, but moments later we heard a voice. “Six o’clock, remember?” 

“I remember!” Samantha shouted back. 

“I’m keeping you too long,” I told her sheepishly. 

She rolled her eyes. “Our reservation is for seven. We have time.” 

Regardless, I slipped the wooden box into my pocket, and we started walking towards her front door. The chain’s silver rungs shifted lightly around my neck. 

“Do you need a ride?” Samantha asked. 

“It’s not a long walk. I can make it.” 

The afternoon had cooled down a little, and we stood together on her front step. 

“Let’s do something together when you get back from your trip,” I said. “I want to hang out with you more this summer.” 

“How about camping?” Samantha proposed. 

“Another camping trip?” 

“Yeah. But just the two of us this time.” 

I’d been camping, but never alone with a girl. And, this was Samantha. 

“I’d like that a lot,” I said, after a pause. 

“Me too.” We smiled at each other. 

“How does mid-July sound to you?” I asked. “We can meet up a couple weeks beforehand, to plan.” 

“It sounds great.” 

Inside the house, somebody called Samantha’s name. She looked down at her phone: five forty-five. “Out of time,” she cursed. 

We had a tight embrace. “I’ll text you when I’m back,” Samantha said, into my ear. 

When we separated, we were still smiling. 

“I’m looking forward to it”, I replied.


End file.
